


something about space dude

by pelvicbones



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 03, What's new, everyone is in love with clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pelvicbones/pseuds/pelvicbones
Summary: There is a planet and a girl between them, but she lets herself get lost in it anyway – revels in his hands around her throat and the memory of blonde sunlight behind her eyelids.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Raven Reyes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	something about space dude

**Author's Note:**

> idek where this came from, but i fuck with the idea of ravenbellamy comfort fucking on the ring so much more than i fuck with becho. also, everyone is in love with clarke, obviously.
> 
> rly wanted to name this “something about space dude” after the miley cyrus song so i fucking did it. give it a listen bc it’s amazing and the lyrics rly hit you in the gut.

* * *

After the first time, she tells him he tastes different. She’s pulling on her clothes, like the first time – but slower, more methodical as she buttons her shirt. He is naked and still, back straight against the cold metal of the floor. She lays beside him and they look at the illustrations on the walls like they’re constellations. Once or twice, his fingers will reach out, stroking the air.

In the beginning, he kisses her everywhere but her mouth. Slides his fingers in instead, pulls her bottom lip with enough force to draw out soft popping sounds like she’s a string to be plucked. His fingers are salty and calloused. She’ll bite down, sometimes – relishing the noises he makes at the back of his throat. His fingernails feel divine against the flesh of her mouth when he pushes down and draws blood. She’s grown to like the taste of pennies, likes when Bellamy forgets everything around himself and takes his misery out on her body. 

Sometimes, she’ll test his grief. Touches her fingertips to the walls of the only room they can fuck in, admonishes him when she finds him drunk and hysterical ( _you promised to do better, Bellamy_ ), tells him about the patch of green untouched by radiation. Most of the time, he’ll stay blank-faced. He’s punched walls throughout the years – broke Murphy’s nose when he made a reference to Bellamy’s bad decisions. Murphy spit out blood, claiming he wasn’t referring to that, he would never say that what happened with _Clar_ –.

Raven feels the ache too, feels it constantly. Feels like her ears are dangling from threads or that someone has sucked vials of blood from her veins when she was sleeping – sees herself in the morning and sees sallow skin, dark circles. When she looks at her hands, they’re red with blisters. She blinks and they smolder, flesh oozing and blackening. When there’s no intention behind their flesh meeting, they both flinch.

One night, they’re lying on the ground after they’ve fucked and he didn’t come.

“Did that help?” she asks.

He snorts at the memory and is shocked by the sound. Keeps his eyes trained on one of _her_ drawings of the sun. Raven wants to feel sunlight on her skin again, the feeling of her arm hairs rising to meet the feeling of warmth. Says absently, “She had blonde hair. Ten fingers, ten toes. Five-foot-four in socks. A knack for destruction.”

Bellamy reaches over swiftly, hands grasping at her throat. His eyes are a flat black, mouth twisted into something dark she hasn’t seen in the shadows before. The tears that gather in Raven’s eyes make her feel like she’s back on Earth, naked in a river. When she closes her eyes, she sees blonde sunshine trickle through the thin flesh of her eyelids. He gasps when he realizes what he’s doing and yanks his hands away in shame.

“No,” she says, eyes blinking open. “Do that again.”

She chants his name when he fucks into her with his fingers, voice breaking around the pressure of his forearm on her windpipe. She wants to chase out the silence, feel like there’s something else other than blood and guts in her body. Bellamy never says her name when he climaxes, just shakes like he’s choking out broken sobs, puffs out little gasps before he bends into himself. Fucking her roughly doesn’t change that. She likes that they don’t pretend. 

None of the others bother to say anything about their arrangement, probably thinking it’s out of convenience. The only one who notices the rings around her neck (she’s her own planet, now) are Murphy. His eyes are shadows when he catches glimpses and Raven’s skin hisses as heat spreads. Murphy may be the only other one who understands.

Their arrangement ends somewhat unceremoniously sometime deep into year three. Raven goes to the cell after fruitlessly spending the day working on the communication system and doesn’t find Bellamy there. Instead, after walking about, she finds him sitting by the window looking at the only green place on Earth.

He lets out a dusty sigh, places his hand on the glass, says simply, “I think I’m starting to forget what she looks like.”

She sits down next to him, watches him trace secret messages to Clarke with his fingertips. Wants to tell him that Clarke has been charred, blackened skeletal remains for years now, that maybe a tree has grown around them if she got lucky. But Raven looks at the green part of the planet and sighs out her admission –

“I don’t think I can.”

Bellamy jolts slightly at her words, mouth parting in shock when tries to meet her eyes. When Raven finally raises her eyes to meet his, chin posed defiantly, he pulls her into his side. He sighs again, this time against the crown of her head.

“Yeah,” he says, finally. “I can’t either.”


End file.
